


Cherry Flavored

by fanatic_scribe



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, It Chapter Two (2019)
Genre: M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Some Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanatic_scribe/pseuds/fanatic_scribe
Summary: Richie gets sick while on tour and it's up to Eddie to help him feel better.





	Cherry Flavored

Richie felt like his head was about to explode. This was definitely not his finest set, it didn’t help that the pressure in his head had grown past the level of comfortable halfway through. He was sick, really sick. The sinus headache has been brewing in his forehead all day and is finally acting its plan to kill the comedian. And it was doing a really good job at it

Richie was doing his best to power through the set as best he could, the show must go on or some bullshit like that, but he just wanted it to be over as soon as possible. He was cold and achy, but the bright lights and clothes he wore made him feel sweaty and gross. Already having abandoned the idea of standing Richie had decided to sit in the uncomfortable wooden stool normally used for drinks. His normal classic glass of bourbon replaced with a bottle of water. If anyone in the audience could actually see him they would notice how pale and dead he looked. Well, more than usual anyway.

Thankfully, his throat was fine, leaving the impression that he was just a gross, sweaty, lazy man who couldn’t stop shaking. Fucking great.

Regardless, he finished his set hearing laughs and thunderous applause. Glad he switched to writing his own material. Even happier to finally be leaving the god damn stage and get to a fucking bed. He moved quickly past his agent trying to congratulate him on a good show, he knew the man was going to try and get him to spend time with fans after the show. Something about publicity or some shit like that. At this point it didn’t matter to him, he needed to lay down and pass out. Now.

* * *

  
  


“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Eds. love you too.” Richie pressed his pointer and thumb against his temple trying to relieve the pressure. Eddie had meet Richie outside the hotel as he pulled up in his cab. With this show being close to where they lived Eddie had decided to spend his last few sets on the road with him. Eddie had not gone to this show because he had already seen his boyfriend’s set and he also wasn’t that big on being lost in a crowd again or the tag along backstage. That had been really awkward.

Eddie had known the moment Richie woke up that morning he was very sick, he had been sick all week but this morning was worse. Eddie suggested he should cancel the show for tonight. Richie refused, saying that his manager would never stop bitching if he let a stunt like that happen. Also, Richie was “no weak bitch” and could “handle anything Kaspbrak” so he didn’t need to cancel. 

He wished he canceled.

Eddie smiled slightly, happy to see that Richie still had a bit of bite to him. Slowly he grabbed the other man's waist before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, “Let’s get you feeling better.”

It was a long grueling walk back to their hotel room, somehow knowing that rest was so much closer made Richie feel even more weighed down by sickness. Once they got to the hotel room though Richie immediately fell face first onto the bed, still fully clothed and wearing shoes. Even though the harsh cold of an unused bed stung at his joints the bed was almost sinfully soft. It could have been the exhaustion but Richie could have sworn it was like laying down on a cloud. 

Richie was almost ready to fall asleep right there and then before he felt a light tug at his boot.

“Being sick doesn’t mean you can get dirt crumbs on the bed,” Eddie grumbled as he sat at the foot of the bed unlacing Richie’s boots. One by one he tugged them off and got up to set them neatly by the door before opening Richie’s bag to look for more comfortable clothes. “You need to learn how to fold your luggage,” Eddie muttered more to himself than anything as he pulled out wads of unfolded clothes, each one more covered in wrinkles than the last. Richie smiled to himself as he watched Eddie wonder in slight horror how many of his clothes were actually washed. 

Finally finding a pair of pajama pants, Eddie made his way back to the bed and ran a soothing hand other Richie’s back. “Babe, you should put on different pants,” Richie whined in response, knowing that meant he would have to move. “Don’t whine at me, you big baby.” Eddie couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “You’ll feel better if you're comfortable.”

Logically, Richie knew that was true, but the sick brain was very insistent that changing clothes was the worst thing he could possibly do right now. As much as Richie would have loved to listen to the sick brain Eddie was on the side of logic, gently flipping Richie onto his back and holding up the pants with a raised eyebrow. 

“Help me?” Richie said with a pout. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he set down the change of pants, “but only because you're sick. Don’t expect me to undress you when you’re too goddamn lazy to do it yourself.” Eddie reached forward and unfastened Richie's belt and buttons on his pants. Slowly, Eddie pulled off his jeans, his warm hands a stark difference to the chilly room that stung Richie’s sore muscles and joints. Richie managed to lift his hips to help but was just too tired to help as Eddie pulled the soft pajamas over his legs.

Eddie placed a gentle kiss on Richie’s forehead, “Gee Dr. K,” Richie said in his British accent, it got better with age but it was still terrible, “do all patients get this treatment or am I just incredibly lucky?”

“Alright if you can joke like that then your not too sick to finish changing.”

“Uhhhh, fine,” Richie whined as he sat up in the bed to unbutton his shirt and then pulled the undershirt over his head, he silently cursed himself for wearing two shirts. Immediately after his shirt was off his head Richie fell back onto the bed shifting so his head rested on the plush pillow. Richie felt the blanket and sheets being pulled over his body and tucked around him, as Richie lifted his head to see what was happening he realized he recognized the sheets around him.

“Eddie,” Eddie hummed a response as he riffled through his blue toiletries bag, “are these our sheets?” Eddie looked up from his bag with a deadpan expression.

“Yeah, I changed the sheets before you got here.” He pulled a few bottles out of his bag, “You never know how long ago these were washed, or if there are bed bugs or-”

“Alright alright, I get it. Germs and shit.” Richie lifted a hand to rub at his forehead and temples, “God I feel fucking horrible.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie moved his hair and kissed Richie’s forehead, “I’ll make you feel better.”

Nobody would have expected Eddie to be this comfortable around a sick person. With his terrible health anxiety, other’s had know Eddie to almost quarantine himself at the first sign of flu season. Yet here he was taking care of a very sick Richie Tozier.

This was partly because recently Eddie had been getting help dealing with his anxieties. Really all the losers had. In a way they were each other's rock, they all had issues they needed to figure out and they would always be there for each other.

Also, Eddie was always the type of person to do anything for the people he loved. Even being exposed to terrible sickness.

  
  


The next few minutes consisted of a struggle to get Richie to take liquid medicine. Eddie insisted it was better and acted faster than the pill form, and Richie called bullshit because liquid medicine tasted like rotten ass. Even with Eddie insisting that the cherry flavored one wasn't as bad Richie still called bullshit on the grounds that cherry-flavored anything tasted like rotten ass. He also brought up the argument that he wasn't a child anymore and that flavored trick won't work on him.

Many insults were thrust back and forth, someone was called a “pussy bitch,” “slimy bitch goblin,” and “crotch hound” among other things before Richie finally relented. Sitting up in bed with his back against the bedpost to down three different viscous liquids, with a sour face after each gulp and gag. “Don’t be such a baby,” Eddie scoffed with an eye roll as he handed Richie a glass of water.

“Fuck you, Spaghetti man.” Richie downed the glass before setting the glass down on the nightstand. Eddie quickly grabbed it to take it to the bathroom sink to wash.

“You’re still gonna be a dick after I saved your life?” Eddie smirked before walking off with the glass to refill it. Richie chuckled to himself as he settled back into the bed, still with the sickly sour-sweet cherry taste in his throat. 

When Eddie set the newly filled glass of water on the nightstand before telling Richie he was going to get ready for bed. He handed Richie the remote and channel list before grabbing his other toiletry bag and headed to the bathroom. As Richie turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, pay no mind to the channel list, he could hear the sound of the shower being turned on. He knew Eddie would be there for some time, even with his health anxiety getting better he still had those fears and being around a sick person probably didn’t help. Richie settling on a channel playing reruns of Forensic Files and from the looks of the guide it was a marathon, something he could definitely stay on until Eddie was finished. As he watched the actors move across the screen with commentary from the narrator and those involved in the crime he felt his eyelids grow heavy.

* * *

  
  


Richie wasn’t aware that he had fallen asleep until a shifting in the bed stirred him. Richie moved to rub the sleep from his eyes to see he had fallen asleep with his glasses on. The TV was still playing the same show but an entirely different episode, as he stretched his arms out he could make out the sound of the narrator talking about DNA. He still felt sore, but he was definitely better than before. The room seemed darker except for the glow of the TV illuminating the small space

“Did you seriously fall asleep watching your murder shows?” Richie turned his head to see Eddie settling into the bed next to him, Richie could feel the soft silk of his pajamas against his skin. There was something very comforting in that, Eddie choosing to wear his silk pajamas even while sleeping in a hotel room. Richie wondered which pair he had brought.

It wasn’t until Eddie was pulling the covers over himself that Richie thought about how this could make Eddie uncomfortable. Even though he had gone leaps and bounds with his health anxiety recovery it was still there, and there were still things he was iffy about. Being next to a sick person was one of them. 

“Do you want me to move?” Richie asked.

“What?” Eddie looked at him like Richie had grown a second head, his face half in shadow from the dull glow from the tv.

“I'm, like, really sick and I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Richie that’s-”

“I can move to the couch if you want.”

“Richie-”

“Yeah, I’ll call the front desk and ask them for another set of blankets.” Richie was about to reach for the phone on the nightstand when he felt Eddie grab his wrist.

“Tozier, don’t be fucking stupid.” His voice more than a little stern the show had gone to commercial as an ad for some fast food chicken played in the background “Just come here.” Eddie leaned back against the pillows and pulled Richie closer to him.

Followed Eddie’s lead, Richie slowly laid his head on Eddie’s silk-clad chest, one of Eddie’s arms was under Richie as he rubbed up and down Richie’s back. Richie was very aware of how sweaty his skin was from his nap earlier but Eddie didn’t say anything about it. Eventually, Richie relaxed into his lover’s chest, soothed by the steady heartbeat and the feel of his hands running through his hair. Eddie placed a kiss at the top of Richie’s head, “Richie, I love you so much. I don’t care if you are sick, I want to be there for you no matter what.”

“I love you too Eds.” Richie smiled to himself, “I promise to take care of you when I make you violently sick.”

“Shut up, Trashmouth.” Richie could feel the slight bump in his chest from a silent chuckle.

After a few minutes of holding each other Richie could feel his eyes closing again, soothed by the rhythmic sounds of Eddie’s heart against his ear. “Hey, uh, Richie?”

“Hmmm?” Richie hummed in response.

“Can we please change the channel?” Eddie held Richie close as he reached for the remote, “Your murder show is really starting to creep me out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written sfw in a long ass time so like I tried my best.


End file.
